


That's Why I'm Your Sweetheart

by NadiaHart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Art, Baking, Cas is confused, Cas needs a hug, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Cute, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Digital Art, Established Relationship, Fan Art, Fluff, Hey Sweetheart, M/M, Mates, Mates Castiel/Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel, Scenting, Soft Dean, Soft Dean Winchester, Stress Baking, Valentines Challenge, a terrible life AU, and a snuggle, and adorable, and some kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart
Summary: This is my entry for the 2018Hey, SweetheartDean/Cas fest. We had to use the sweetheart term of endearment at least once in the fic. I hope you enjoy this gratuitous use of fluff.Dean didn't think his life could get any better. He had the mate of his dreams, areallynice apartment in the heart of the city, and a comfortable position at one of the leading architectural firms. At least that's what he thought when he stepped off the elevator after a long, late shift at the office. The smell of cookies baking is supposed to make a man feel happy and hungry, but to Dean's sensitive nose it's a warning bell. There's no other explanation for it, Cas is stress baking.





	That's Why I'm Your Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> So many wonderful thanks you's to my Beta's [@OsirisApolo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OsirisApollo/pseuds/OsirisApollo) and [@MaskOfCognito](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskofCognito/pseuds/MaskofCognito) and to my family on the Profound Bond Discord server who kept me motivated and continuously push me to write better. (Come and join us here: [ ProfoundBond ](https://discord.gg/dPjdRtF) )
> 
> The art in this fic is by the one and only [@Cryptomoon](http://space-wolf.com/), who was kind and generous and so wonderful throughout the whole process. I hope that I am fortunate enough to work with her again in the future.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and... Hey, Sweetheart, Happy Valentines Day.

Dean is tired. Dead tired. 

Fatigue pulls at the corners of his eyes, and he stifles a yawn against the back of his hand as the elevator creeps it’s way steadily up towards his apartment. He blinks wearily at the little yellow numbers, watching them slowly increase. 

Dean pops the first three buttons of his shirt and pulls the knot on his tie loose, leaving it to hang limply around his neck behind his  _ V.P. _ identification card for Sandover. His arms hang heavily at his sides after he retrieves his discarded briefcase and the grocery bag from the local market.

His thoughts are consumed with crawling into his obscenely comfortable bed, wrapping himself around his mate and sleeping until Monday morning. He may be an alpha, but working three consecutive fourteen hour days can drag anyone down. 

A tired smile tugs at the corner of Dean’s lips as he remembers exactly why he’s had to work so late, recently. He and Cas had been mated just over six months now and Dean’s last rut had been the first time their cycles synced.

Dean remembers groggily calling out of work early last Sunday morning—the itch of his rut burning beneath his skin. He left his boss, Zachariah, a voicemail letting the man know that he was going to be out the next few days. 

He remembers being agitated, as is normal for his ruts, but more so because it had arrived early by at least a week. He’d woken to sweat coating his skin and tense, aching muscles. Each breath of air was saturated with his alpha-in-rut stench. However, under it all was the sweet soft fragrance of his mate. 

That had been his second rut with his mate and he’d been determined to make it better than the first—a frenzied lust filled two days. More than once, he had stalked down and dominated his partner like some kind of feral animal. Dean shivered, unsettled at the memory of his actions. 

Stifling another yawn, a small growl escapes his lips at the slowly moving numbers displaying the elevator’s ascent to his apartment. 

Cas had assured Dean that the stalking he’d succumbed to was ‘very erotic’ and he was ‘definitely into it’ and Cas just might have implied that Dean should let his alpha out more. That maybe his omega had enjoyed being chased around the dining room table, and that watching Dean leap over the living room sofa had made Cas ‘embarrassingly wet’. 

Dean chuckles darkly. His mate is perfect. 

If he was honest with himself, what had made his early rut really spectacular was when he rolled over to nuzzle the nape of Cas' neck, bathing himself in his mate’s soothing scent until his rut fully hit. He had found Cas sweating and panting in his sleep. His narrow hips moved in small abortive rolls as he desperately sought some kind of relief for his burgeoning heat. Dean’s initial reaction had been excitement, simultaneous rut and heat sex was the  _ best _ sex. And then it occurred to him his scent had spiked with joy so quickly, Cas startled awake. 

As Cas had blinked his blue eyes up at Dean, sleep and heat clouding their normally bright depths, Dean waited and watched as the realization dawned on Cas. Their cycles had synced and filled his mate’s scent with bliss. The languid smile and soft purr that came from Cas quelled Dean’s drive to claim him immediately, and they had fallen into a slow, languid bout of lovemaking. 

Cas had later theorized Dean’s first rut, after their mating, had been so desperate—so primal—because Dean’s alpha was concerned Cas would leave him. Even though their bond had formed, their scents had shifted slightly, and they were each wearing the other’s mating bite. But because Dean’s bite hadn’t thrown Cas into spontaneous heat, Dean’s alpha had been ‘subconsciously’ worried. 

Dean, on the other hand, had no such theories and just chalked it up to Cas being so absolutely perfect for him that it was impossible for a rut fueled Dean to resist the allure of his mate. 

He would later confess—to himself—that there had been a very small voice of worry in the back of his mind. It could have potentially taken them years for their mating cycles to match up, and that meant years of difficulty conceiving a pup. 

Damn, Dean wants pups. He wants Cas' flat, toned belly, and sharp hip-bones to disappear behind the swell of their child. He wants his beautiful mate soft, and round, and full of the life they create together.

The elevator dings— _ finally _ —and Dean exits. There are only two apartments on the top floor. Dean’s position of  _ VP of Marketing _ affords him the privilege of privacy, even here in the heart of a major city. 

Immediately, the scent of baked goods smacks him in the face. Checking his watch, he confirms: yes—it was still well after eleven at night, and—no—he hadn’t been stuck in that old slow elevator all weekend. 

His eyes stray to Mrs. Mildred Baker’s apartment as the elderly alpha is known for baking cookies for her local canasta club. But the scent of cinnamon and vanilla in the air is so thick it could only mean one thing. 

Dean frowns, shoulders sagging under his fatigue, and he turns towards his own apartment. The closer he gets, the heavier the scent of baking becomes. His sensitive nose can pick out ginger, honey, lemongrass, chive, and chocolate.  _ Lots of chocolate _ . And—oh, no—fresh bread.

Cas is stress baking. 

Gently placing the bag of groceries down, Dean unlocks the front door. His nose wrinkles and he fights back a sneeze as the overwhelming scent of baked goods assaults him. The large dining room table, the island that separates the kitchen from the breakfast nook, and the bar counter that divides the kitchen from the living room are all stacked high with the freshly made treats. Dean counts at least three pies, four loaves of bread, two dozen brownies, and six large Tupperware containers full of cookies. He blindly retrieves the grocery bag—unable to pull his eyes away from the apparent bakery Cas has opened since Dean left for work this morning—and enters the apartment. 

He scans for his mate among the Tupperware and cooling racks. Nudging the door closed behind him, Dean sets his briefcase by the door and takes the groceries with him like a peace offering, of sorts.

The first thing Dean sees as he enters the kitchen is his mate’s perfect backside. Cas is hunched over, gloved arms extended into the oven. He’s got white handprints on his ass cheeks and hips as if he’d been wiping his hands there all day. 

The basketball shorts he’s wearing are Dean’s, which is strange. Cas usually only wears Dean’s clothing when he needs scent comfort and Dean isn’t around to provide it. As Cas turns around, Dean realizes he is also wearing Dean’s favorite t-shirt. 

Confusion is rapidly replaced by concern as Cas startles badly at Dean’s presence, dropping the tray he’s holding. Fresh chocolate chip cookies scatter over the floor, one sliding all the way across the white tiles to stop at Deans feet.

Cautiously—keeping eye contact with his mate—Dean sets the groceries on the floor and collects the lone cookie at his feet. Cas looks on the verge of tears, his face morphing from an activity-induced flush to a fearful pale. 

Dean brings the cookie to his lips. It's warm, buttery, and smells like melted chocolate. He can see Cas tense up, his beautiful mouth opening—most likely to tell Dean not to eat a cookie off the floor—then closing as Dean takes a bite and moans around the flavor. Tentatively, he takes a step forward. By the time he’s finished the morsel, Dean is in Cas’ space. 

His mate gives a thick sob and collapses against Dean’s chest.

“Sweetheart,” Dean croons, wrapping Cas up in his arms and holding him tight. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Cas snuffles softly, his chest hiccuping around a muted sob as he tries to compose himself. Gently, he shifts against Dean’s chest, angling his head until Dean feels the warm press of Cas' nose against the scent gland in Dean’s neck. 

His mate petulantly shakes his head no and Dean sighs. Cas' hands grip the lapels of his suit jacket pulling Dean infinitesimally closer. 

“Okay,” Dean whispers. Bending fluidly, he scoops Cas up into his arms and princess carries the unresisting omega over to the small table in the breakfast nook. Kicking out the chair,  Dean turns and sits, nestling Cas in his lap and snuggling the distressed man as close as he possibly can.

They sit together for a while, Dean rubbing down Cas' back, letting him scent along Dean’s neck until he’s a pile of relaxed, slightly more content, smelling omega. It’s hard to get a direct read on his mate, Dean notes as he runs his nose through the slightly floury strands of hair atop Cas' head. 

Cas always smells like sweet, freshly made hotcakes. But with all the baking he has done today, it is hard—even for Dean’s nose—to pick out the individual notes of his scent. Dean runs his nose through Cas' hair again, enjoying how the soft strands feel against his skin. With a small moan, Dean breathes in, wishing he could isolate his mates soothing scent from the rest of the room. 

Cas tenses in his arms. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you gonna make me guess?” Dean mumbles against Cas' scalp, his voice low and soft.

Cas pulls back from Dean’s neck but doesn’t relinquish his hold on the lapels of Dean’s suit jacket. His eyes are huge, and round, and tinged with red from the tears he’d shed. It breaks Dean’s heart to see his mate like this. What could have happened over the last fourteen hours to send his normally composed omega into such a state? 

Dean cups Cas' face, running his thumb along the apple of his cheek. He leans in and kisses him softly, gently. Dean tries to reassure his bonded through touch that everything will be ok. “I won’t be mad. Whatever it is, sweetheart, I love you.” 

Cas gives him a watery smile and drops his head against Dean’s shoulder. A soft sob escapes him. 

“No matter what it is, we can face it together.” Dean resigns himself to waiting it out. Cas will tell him eventually. He always does. There have never been any secrets between them. 

Dean draws another deep calming breath. Slumping back against the chair, he gives in to his fatigue. There is something endlessly soothing about having his omega wrapped around him, even if the man is mildly distressed. Just holding him—being there for him—soothes Dean’s worried alpha. 

He takes another slow breath, letting his eyes slip closed. He adjusts Cas in his arms, letting the man curl against him like a sleepy pup. Dean loves when Cas gets clingy, loves the feel of his mate needing him close. 

Snuggling the man tightly, Dean peppers his forehead with gentle kisses, murmuring soft reassurances and whispers of his adoration.

It’s then he smells it. The soft hint of warm milk infuses the air. No, not in the air. Dean pulls Cas away from him slightly. “Babe?” He whispers as his heart rate picks up. 

Cas sniffles, tucking his chin against his chest and refusing to meet Dean’s eye. 

“Cas?” Dean asks more firmly this time, pulling his mate back into his arms and dropping his nose down against Cas' neck.

Yes. There it is. Cas' normally fresh-baked scent is muted by the faint smell of bread yeast. Hints of cream and the thick scent of molasses override Cas' normal, light maple syrup sweetness. 

It could only mean one thing. 

Dean’s heart swells in his chest, and a soft sob of relief erupts from his mouth. Cas snaps back, leaning away from him. Shock is written into every feature of his face—a face Dean wants to smother in kisses. He can’t control his scent as it creeps out of his pores, covering the smell of baked goods in spicy alpha joy.

“I’m going to be a dad?” Dean asks already knowing the answer. “I’m– I’m going to be a dad!” He gushes, barking a happy laugh. 

Cas' shock quickly fades to confusion as he slowly nods. 

Dean’s elation wraps around them, his scent flooding the room with pleased alpha as he leans down and kisses his mate. 

Cas is slow to kiss back, but Dean’s not worried. The confusion and fear fade from his mate’s scent the longer Dean showers him with affection. His lips trail from Cas' mouth, down his cheek, over his jaw, to suck and nip along the scent gland of his neck where the smell of pregnant omega is strongest. Dean moans against Cas' neck as the milky scent sends his alpha into overdrive.

Arousal pools deep in his stomach. The thick warm scent of his pregnant mate fills his senses. He doesn’t even realize his hand is moving until it’s cupping Cas' still smooth tummy.

His pup. 

His pup is in there growing, safe and warm inside the one person he loves more than anything. With one last little nip to Cas' neck, he pulls back, unable to hide his joy as he kisses his mate again. 

“We’re having a pup,” Dean sighs, resting his forehead against Cas'. His fingers rub gently along the other man's midriff. 

“You-you're happy?” Cas' voice is thick with an emotion Dean can’t place.

“Yeah! Yes!” Dean laughs his disbelief. How could he not be happy? How could Cas think this would bring Dean anything but joy. Tearing his eyes away from his mate, Dean looks around the kitchen. Realization dawns on him and he asks, “Is this what all the baking was about? Were you afraid I wouldn’t want our pup?” 

Cas looks sheepish as he nods, licking his lips. “We’ve never talked about pups.” He states slowly. “We’ve only been officially mated six months—” Dean opens his mouth to interject, but Cas rushes on “—and you never seemed to like Michael’s children. You always complained when we went to my brother's house for the holidays.”

Dean’s mouth snaps shut with a click. He really doesn’t like those spoiled brats and the way they treat their omega. Michael doesn’t have time to be a proper alpha to his children and it shows in the way they walk all over anyone who isn’t in their financial tax bracket. 

Dean grumbles in his chest. He wasn’t born to money. He worked hard and made it for himself. Michael always looked down on Dean, thinking his brother could do better than a self-made man.

“I just... I thought… I don’t know…” Cas falters shrugging, his eyes sad again.

“Castiel Novak-Winchester,” Dean rumbles, letting a soft growl tumble with his words. He now knows Cas likes it when he lets his alpha out, and the other man blushes prettily. “You are my mate, my omega. How I feel about your brother and his spoiled rotten children—” at that, Cas gives a little laugh and Dean softens his tone “—has absolutely nothing to do with how badly I want you to carry my child.” Dean reaches out and places his knuckle under Cas' chin, lifting his face until their eyes meet. “To give me lots of pups. To fill my life, our home, with laughter and love like you’ve done with me.” Dean gently strokes over Cas' belly with his free hand and, for the first time, Cas' hand joins his there.

“You’re going to be a Father,” Cas says as he leans back a bit so Dean can push his shirt up to expose his toned stomach. Dean bends low and presses a soft wet kiss just above Cas’ belly button.

“I’m going to be a Dad,” Dean repeats looking up at his mate, his body heating at the thought of breeding Cas full of his pups. 

He knows his more intimate thoughts are coloring his scent because Cas’ pupils dilate, and he blushes shyly, his body becoming supple in Dean’s arms.

Cas leans in and purrs into Dean’s ear, “We’re having a pup.”

Dean can’t contain his excitement. He leans back and howls his joy. Cas laughs, his body warm and relaxed in Dean’s lap. And as they both catch their breath, Dean leans in and kisses his mate, the father of his pup, and whispers, “I love you, Castiel. You add all the sweetness to my life. You bring joy to my heart.”

Cas' smile is small and private as he runs his fingers up into Dean’s hair and says, “That’s why I’m your sweetheart.”

“Damn right, it is,” Dean growls, closing the distance between them for another more heated kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was my first fest! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know by leaving a **comment** or _kudo_ down below. 
> 
> I'm sure Crypto would love to hear that you loved the art as much as I did, leave her a comment below or give her Tumblr a follow for more fantastic art. 
> 
> I am signed up for a few more this year and I hope that you subscribe and take this journey with me. Thank you so much.
> 
>  _whispers_ comments and kudos activate my priase kink ^__~


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